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She released her breath on an audible sigh. Relief from the constant threat of Jimmy Dunn was one of the benefits she hoped to reap from having Macintyre as a husband. Whatever his faults were, she was sure Asa wasn’t the type to ignore a man bothering his wife. Even if the man was a big, blond, belligerent, fighting type.
No, she decided, recalling her husband’s reputation and broad shoulders. Jimmy wouldn’t scare a man like Asa. She tightened her grip on her basket, stepped off the porch, and reminded herself again that she’d done the right thing in marrying Asa MacIntyre. He was big and mean, and more than capable of handling threats to the ranch, whether they came in the form of rustlers or overly familiar foremen.
Her steps slowed as she skirted the shadows stretching from the oak. She sucked her lower lip between her teeth and chewed as she realized there was no reason for Asa to believe her if she screamed and he caught her in a compromising position with Jimmy. They hadn’t had enough time to establish any trust or knowledge of each other. If the opportunity ever came up where she needed to explain her difficulties with the foreman, she’d have to choose her words carefully. She didn’t need the complication of a husband jumping to conclusions.
Two steps from the hen house, a heavy hand slapped down on her shoulder, driving her teeth into her lip. She didn’t have time to toss retrospection aside in favor of alarm before she was pulled against a large, male body. As the scent of liquor and sweat assaulted her nostrils, reality hit. For one crippling moment, she didn’t know what to do.
“Hello, Elly.” His voice, as always, was a soft drawl of sound. Low and intimate, as if there were only sweet secrets between them. It was as much crap as the chicken droppings she stood on.
“Let me go, Jimmy.”
His answer was scary in its brevity. “No.”
She looked into his bloodshot, blue eyes, felt his fingers biting painfully into her upper arm, and understood one truth with crystal clarity. Whatever her future held with Asa, it had to be better than this.
“I told you I’d be here for you,” Jimmy continued his parody of a lover’s voice.
Elizabeth tugged on her arm. Instead of letting go, he tightened his grip. She could have shot herself for wincing when his smile broadened.
“Did you miss me?” he asked, his eyes narrowing, the lines beside them fanning out in an evil mockery of laughter.
She swallowed back a “Hell, no.” Above all, she knew she needed to keep control. She couldn’t let the shaking inside spread to anywhere he could see. Oh, God! She was so sick of this. His fingers sank deeper into her flesh. Pain constricted her throat as his thumb ground into her collarbone. She wanted to scream blue murder. She wanted to rage and swear. Instead, she had to settle for forcing an off-putting “Excuse me,” through her pain-clogged throat.
Jimmy’s smile expanded to let her know it wasn’t enough. It was never going to be enough.
* * * * *
Asa came around the side of the barn, drawn to the kitchen’s back door by the tantalizing odors drifting on the evening air. He hadn’t tasted a home-cooked meal in a coon’s age. He’d dallied a couple of hours in the barn, trying to give his wife some time alone, but a man could only hold out so long against aromas like that. At least he’d put the time to good use, checking the lay of the land. It was clear the hands had been slacking off, just as it was clear Elizabeth had been doing her best to pick up that slack. Two things he could say for sure about his wife. She wasn’t lazy, and she wasn’t worth a plugged nickel when it came to carpentry.
A very controlled “Excuse me” from the other side of the hen house pulled him up short.
He’d recognize that icy tone of voice anywhere. His wife was in a snit about something. He decided to keep the coop between them until he discovered what it was. His stomach growled, agreeing that they didn’t want any backlash that might affect the quality of their meal.
“Move out of my way, Jimmy.”
A slow curl of anger unfurled that the person his wife was facing was a man.
“I don’t think so, Elly.”
“That’s Miss Coyote to you.”
He made a mental note to remind her she was Mrs. MacIntyre now.
“I like Elly a lot better.” The man’s voice dropped to an insinuating whisper. “It’s more…friendly.”
“I told you the last time you cornered me, Jimmy, that if you ever did it again, you’d be fired.”
“But you’re married now, Elly.” A soft thump announced something landing against the other side of the hen house. “You don’t have the power to fire me.”
